Silk Bedsocks
by ImagineI
Summary: A short story that I am desperate for people to read. I really hope people enjoy it and if not, I would love to hear your opinions no matter what. I genuinely want to hear what you think of this fic. Thank you. AkihikoXMisaki
1. Silk

**Please** read this and give it a chance. It would truly honour me if you wrote me a review to say what you think of this after you have finished it. Thank you and please persevere with this, even if details seem skewered. All shall be explained : )

* * *

><p>Usami Akihiko walked into the room, trying very hard to quell his instinct to run.<p>

The hall was lit by the delicate golden glow of chandeliers, which hung from the high ceilings that were mottled with gold-leaf and lion head carvings that glared rather than glanced at the oak buffed floors. Round tables with thick, light pink cloths draped over them were dotted around the perimeter of the room; polished silver cutlery gleamed like ready soldiers flanking the gold rimmed, white china plates; scarlet roses posed in thin blue glass vases, complementing the pink carnations that were bunched at different interludes along the beige picture rail that rimmed around the champagne wallpaper on the curved walls. A giant gold-framed, ornate mirror sat above a classic French fireplace, which was more for decorative purposes than for warmth and was characteristically unlit, which did not detract from the warmth the light of the chandeliers brought to the ballroom.

And, at the end of the fifty metre room, a wall length, quarter-paned window. Light filtered through it, the Titian radiance of the sun- dying at peace in its nightly, auburn coffin- painting the glass of the mirror aflame and casting a taper of orange along the length of the floor that was echoed in the trains of the glamorous ladies and black-suited men.

The people were everywhere. Akihiko had so hoped that he would have been able to see the room without the insect-like socialites, their antennae perked up to hear the latest piece of salacious gossip. There was no doubt about it: Lord Usami Akihiko fit here, fit perfectly with the silk gowns and brilliantly black Armani suits, the ridiculously expensive aftershave and Chanel that replaced oxygen, replaced natural air and taught the baby bug mondaines and bachelors to override suffocation whilst speaking of old money and the frustrations of a stained silk bedsock.

Oh, what would they say if they knew how Akihiko had stained his bedsocks… let alone his bed…

As Akihiko took a step down the widening, red-carpeted steps, both male and female heads turned and whispers brushed the air under the currant of smug, buzzing banter. Akihiko pushed his hands into his pressed black trouser pockets and caught sight of a crease in the pale blue handkerchief that was in the top pocket of his suit jacket. He drew his shoulder back in his fitted black suit and the crease smoothed over; a trick of the trade. If he had taken his hand out of his pocket then it would have been a message to all currently watching him that he cared too much. Well, he did care too much, but he certainly didn't want these insipid fools to know so.

"Usami! Pleasure, so good to see you here. Finally!"

It was hard for Akihiko not to flinch at the squeaking coming from somewhere below his left shoulder.

"Ah, Mahiro, good to see you," Akihiko smiled, turning and making a polite bow to the balding, grey haired man. Forks appeared at the corners of the man's watery blue eyes as he put his hand up on Akihiko's back, encouraging him to walk down the stairs with him. It was as they smoothly scooted past a suited bustling waiter with empty Perrier Jouet flutes that Akihiko heard the swimming sweep of dulcet violins from the far corner of the room. He followed the sound and observed a small quartet: two violinists, their personalities practically stitched onto their instruments and in their music, their faces obscure; a cellist, whose floppy black hair concealed his face as he bent over his lover slash cello and just about toed the line between Bohemian and Brahmin and a pianist on a shiny black parlor grand piano, the tails of his suit reminding Akihiko greatly of Disney's Fantasia, which he was certain the pianist would rather play over whatever predictable, Classical music this was. Akihiko sighed in sympathy. He was sure the Hors d'œuvre orchestra was grateful for the large leafed plant that obscured them from view and for a few moments, Akihiko truly admired the blue paintwork on the small-necked, large-bowled china vase. "Thank you very much for inviting me to this, by the way," Akihiko said as he turned his head and surveyed the shimmering, newly done hair, perfect nails and polished black shoes that became the wandering figures who passed themselves off as worthy aristocrats.

"Not at all, old friend-" _I'm practically his son_, Akihiko countered in his head- "I barely know what a party without you would be like, these days."

Akihiko bent his neck in a sign of polite gratitude for the compliment.

"The feelings are reciprocated- what party would be worth attending if it weren't hosted by you."

Mahiro practically swooned at Akihiko's level words and gave him a twinkling smile before stretching his small arm in front of him, showcasing how fragile he had become since the diagnosis of cancer not four months ago. The seventy five year old man had embraced him as a son long ago, knowing Usami-chichi's callous nature through their business interactions.

Mahiro's suit arm was large around his wrist and Akihiko swallowed; he would be mournful at seeing Mahiro leave this world and hoped that whatever God saw to him in the afterlife would let him arrange the dinner parties of the angels. Mahiro so enjoyed parties…

"I'm sure you'll catch the eye of some lucky woman tonight," Mahiro jested, but there was a serious tone in there that made Akihiko feel berated.

"Hopefully," Akihiko lied easily with a smile.

"Mahiro-ojisan, the guests are waiting," came a daisy-delicate voice.

"Quite right, my dear, quite right. Will you bring me a champagne glass and a small fork, please?"

A young girl, no more than twenty-one Akihiko guessed, had come to join their little soiree. It took a moment for Akihiko to realise how stunned he was. She was utterly beautiful.

Her cheekbones were slightly wider than those that were so longed for by the majority of women. Yet, they inspired Akihiko to admire how they defined her petal shaped face and her skin was just as diaphanous as a rose petal, a light pink hue glowing under her flesh. Her nose was long and thin and her mouth positioned just so, so that it appeared she was always smiling kindly. Her lips were a soft dark pink that matched with her lighter dress.

Delicate gauze material was wrapped over her torso, and over her shoulders creating a 'V' between her hidden breasts and exposing her long, elegant neck, the rounds of her shoulders and her arms. Her collarbone was slightly too bony and yet fitting for her overall fragility. The gauze crisscrossed between her also exposed shoulderblades and dropped in raindrop points around her very slim hips where a simple, same pink silk skirt poured down her legs and almost covered the dark pink stilettos that showed her dainty, French manicured toes.

Her hair was long and chestnut brown, lustrous as a new conker and let down except for a few wisps by her ears that had been pulled back into a stylized, slim ponytail showing her pointy, tiny ears.

But it was her eyes that hypnotised him. Large and doe-like, they were as green as the dew-kissed grass in Spring, fine sage lines doubtless a feature of her physiognomy.

"Ah, but before you go, my dear, allow me to introduce you to Lord Usami Akihiko!"

Akihiko shook himself out of his trance and made a slow, low bow -hands sharply at his sides- to whom he was sure was the Queen Of The Faeries herself.

He felt the lady bow to him and as he rose back up, Mahiro continued.

"Usami, this is Takahashi Akina," Mahiro explained. "My niece."

"Like the flower?" Akihiko inquired as he looked down at the humble lady before him, her hands still held together at the centre of her waist from the bow. Takahashi Akina nodded and made a small smile.

"My uncle has spoken of you," Akina almost whispered as she curiously stroked a hand over her stomach. "You are the young author, yes?"

"Um, I am _a_ young author, I'm not sure I'm quite as prolific as to don me _the_," Akihiko smiled and he felt a fervent rush in his chest as Akina returned a genuine smile. "What relation are you to Mahiro?"

Mahiro made a proud, nervous sort of chuckle.

"This fresh flower is the new bride of my great nephew Takahiro and I've come to adore her so much I had insisted she call me uncle. Their son is the same age as you, Akihiko and is also called Takahiro. His younger brother is called-" Mahiro's next word was muffled but Akihiko was far too entranced with Akina to ask him to repeat the name.

"Ojisan," Akina murmured, her green eyes sparkling. "We should make the toast now, otherwise you'll grow too tired." She was somehow so much more graceful and beautiful then the clinquant women here tonight and yet from her shy demeanour Akihiko just knew that she came from a far simpler background; one he thirsted for.

"Mm, mm! I agree, please bring me a glass of champagne and a fork."

Akina slipped away into the growing bustle of people, who were evidently tired of salmon tasters and sushi delicacies and were- as per usual- bored and needed more entertainment. Nothing was ever good enough…

"So, what do you think, Akihiko?"

"I think I know her son," Akihiko replied, trying to hide his lustful gulp.

"Takahiro or-"

"Yes, Takahiro."

Akina returned with two flutes and handed one to Akihiko and one to Mahiro. Akihiko took the fork Akina was holding and pinged his glass instead, as Mahiro was definitely appearing to grow fatigued. People quietened and the quartet drew to a close and soon, only Mahiro's voice and the outside chirp of blue tits filled the room. Mahiro cleared his throat.

"Welcome, _everyone_ to tonight's party. I must admit that this is quite a selfish gathering on my part- there is no charity gala or auction tonight, only the selling of my time which I have chosen to spend with you precious people. Family and friends here tonight, I would like to offer my deepest thanks for each of your unique effects on my life. I have known the highest realms of happiness with each of you, have been taught a spectrum of love more diverse and dazzling than the brightest rainbow and I apologise sincerely if I have not imparted even an inch of the same joy. I hope you enjoy tonight…" Mahiro trembled on the spot and his eyes watered, though no tears fell and though Akihiko was embarrassed to be standing next to Mahiro at this sensitive time, he nevertheless held Mahiro around the back to steady him. Mahiro had no children of his own but had, in effect, so many grandchildren, nieces and nephews that Akihiko couldn't possibly count them all. The man took a deep, quavering breath and Akihiko's heart panged- this could quite possibly be the last speech Mahiro made to all the people here. "And it would honour me if you left a small donation at the door in whichever of the charity envelopes I have left there for you to choose from. My staff will send them on for you. Thank you and enjoy your food. But before we eat, it would please me greatly to see you all dancing before I fear I fall asleep in our miso!"

Everyone laughed graciously and clapped their hands lightly. Mahiro smiled. Akihiko stared at Akina, who stared at the floor and stroked her abdomen. He felt like he knew the lady, felt bonded to her in the most surreal, serene way possible. Her body wavered in the room like a candle flame and Akihiko had to blink to check she wasn't just a mirage.

"Akihiko, Akina- dance for me. Make an old man content in the knowledge that young love is possible," Mahiro requested, putting a hand on both Akihiko's and Akina's shoulders.

"Would your husband mind?" Akihiko muttered to Akina. She shook her head gently and smiled, confident in her husband's faith in her.

The strings began their stroking ascent, the piano gracing the air with rounded, coruscating high notes Akihiko imagined he could roll between his fingers. A sober, supple grounding from the cello set the rhythm of the dance: a relaxed waltz.

Akihiko supported Akina's bony hand, her nails long and also done with a French manicure. They arrived at the centre of the floor and, at Akina's nod, Akihiko took Akina round the waist and she placed a hand on his shoulder, though it was a considerable stretch for her.

After a balanced couple of steps and one swish, seamless spin, other couples began to come to the floor and soon Akihiko and Akina were amicably dancing with a whole crowd of well-doers.

Akihiko barely felt Akina on him and was terrified once or twice that he had thrown her away on one of his spins but she kept up wonderfully. Her scent was difficult to detect but it was definitely floral. In fact, Akihiko didn't think she was wearing perfume at all. _How refreshing_.

"So, how old are you?" Akina asked as they finished a small, basic step routine ingrained in both of them from a young age.

"Eighteen. Yourself?"

"You're young to have such silver hair... it is silver, really. Not grey. I'm twenty."

For a few seconds, Akihiko had a baffling moment where their ages did not seem to correctly correspond; if Akina was twenty and one of her sons was the same age as Akihiko, then it would nonsensically mean that she had been two upon conception. Ridiculous, he knew and yet it didn't concern him after a soothing smile from Akina. She was so calm that Akihiko thought she might not be here at all. The occasional strokes of her stomach told him that she missed her sons, perhaps was worried about her youngest? What had his name been?

"What are you doing here, then?"

"Ah, my father knows Mahiro through business deals and from a young age I have known Mahiro almost like a second father… it's bad, I know, to disrespect my father so but-"

"Don't panic," Akina cooed, her voice silvery. She looked directly up in Akihiko's eyes, startling him for a second. He was beginning to seriously wonder whether he was bisexual instead of homosexual. "Mahiro has that effect on everyone. Look at him over there- isn't he just at peace?"

"Blissful," Akihiko agreed as he looked over at the old man, whose hands were clasped under his chin and whose eyes were like crumpled paper, so scrunched up were they in joy.

"You're a very proficient dancer, for one so young," Akina complimented.

"Thank you very much," Akihiko replied, looking down at her.

He jumped.

The youthful nymph he had been dancing with beforehand had morphed into a grey haired, wrinkle-faced old lady. The ever present kind smile was still there, but her lips were decidedly bloodless and the glow that had once spun a halo around her was now far more subdued. Her body was even more fragile than before and her back hunched in old age.

"A-Akina?" Akihiko stuttered. He realised then that the music had stopped. The room was empty aside from himself and this woman, who was staring at him in a sad, happy fashion. Was she saying goodbye?

Then a delicate voice echoed from nowhere, though Akina's mouth had definitely not moved.

"Akihiko? Are you alright?"

In the millisecond he blinked, the room returned to its previous state and in his arms was a frozen Akina, who was searching his face for a problem.

Confused, Akihiko stared down at her. He moved his mouth to say something but no words came out and on every attempt, the returned music- now louder and more rampant- became more and more muffled and the chandeliers dimmed. Darkness seemed to cloud out from Akihiko's mouth and a purple, clotted dust mussed up Akina's face. She became a fragile figure of block purple that quickly disappeared under a hail of black.

_Akina, Akina… Mahiro! What's happening? What's happening!_

* * *

><p><em>Please go onto chapter two. By the by, 'Akina' means 'spring flower' in Japanese : ) Hope you're enjoying this!<em>


	2. Bedsocks

Final Chapter to this fanfiction, I really hope you enjoy this and highly anticipate your reviews. Thank you. Please review. Any questions you ask will be answered.

* * *

><p>It was morning. He knew that much. White-yellow sunlight shone in through the large window behind him slicing the mahogany table top under his hands in two, one side shadowed by the half closed curtains. But where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Akihiko did not know.<p>

"Akihiko, do you not like your grapefruit?"

Akihiko jolted in his seat and his head jerked to the left. Sitting next to him at the twenty metre long table was Mahiro, a fluffy white dressing gown wrapped around his small body. Akina sat opposite him and oddly enough it was Akihiko who sat at the head of the table.

Akihiko looked down and saw half a grapefruit in a glass bowl crafted to look like transparent leaves.

"No, no. I do…" Akihiko spoke.

"Would you like some sugar?"

"Aaaakihiko…" came a grumbled groan. Akihiko jumped and looked around him for the person who could have said his name so. But only Mahiro and Akina were there and they were both smiling at him with such tranquility. A familiar tune of piano music began to swill around the room like heat fumes, oily on the air and visible as they rose and fell in synchronization with the notes.

"Usami? Are you quite alright?"

Akihiko turned to answer Mahiro. But he was not there. He blinked several times and swallowed, beginning to pant slightly in panic- was he drunk? Had he been drugged? Why was everything so unnatural?

"Akihiko…" came a quiet voice, more hushed than a bird's heartbeat. He was standing, all of a sudden, in the same ballroom he had been in the night before. The tables had gone, the people had gone. The bunches of carnations were no longer there and the air had been washed of the sickly smell of perfume and aftershave. It was so fresh and yet he tasted a sadness- salty and wet with the weight of tears hanging around him. The piano music was yet again muffled but still present.

In front of him was that same old lady but he knew it was Akina by those eyes, those star-fallen eyes that had not changed one bit. The sage green in her eyes was more frequent around the scope of her pupil and told of her wiseness.

"Takahashi Akina…" Akihiko breathed.

"So…" Akina croaked softly, an impassioned glint in her eye and that sad smile on her wizened face. "You have chosen my son?"

Akihiko fell to his knees, a heavy weight plummeting through his chest. He was suddenly so grief-stricken he could hardly feel himself breathe. Out of nowhere, he felt like he didn't deserve to breathe.

"Which one, Akihiko? Which one have you taken?"

Akina's tone was that of an enraged angel. The way she interrogated him made him feel like some covetous demon. The tears he had felt in the air suddenly splashed on the floor around him, making small puddles that certainly hadn't come from him. He didn't know where they had come from.

"Misaki…" Akihiko groaned, his head dropping into his ready hands. A cold weight pressed on his shoulder and Akihiko's back hunched.

"I'm not angry at you, Akihiko. I don't think my son could be with anyone better. You must dance with him soon as you danced with me."

A scratched, scarred image- like damaged film tape- crashed against his eyes. He caught elements of the movie: a smashed windscreen, blackish red blood slick against two foreheads, the blue and red twisting of police car lights warping pictures of a disjointed arm, a battered steering wheel… a bashed in bonnet of a silver car… the night was black…

"Look at me."

It was the voice of his mother, the voice of his grandmother. It was the whisper of Misaki's mother, the murmurs of all the women, all the erased women…

"Look…"

Akihiko was looking up into Akina's eyes… Misaki's eyes. The car-crash images repeated themselves, except this time his mind chose to torture him by including Misaki's features… that skin crease in his index finger, a shard of glass wedged between his honeyed neck and swollen shoulder…

"Dance with him. Protect him. Love him."

"I do," Akihiko gasped through his sobs, throat constricted. "Please know that. God, how can you not know that!"

"The deepest river doesn't know the depths of a mother's love. Stop sitting on the riverbed waiting for Misaki to join you. Pull him down. Drown him in your love."

_Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on_, came an agonised voice in his head. His body began to rock back and forth as he hugged Misaki to his chest.

"I love my son. Always. Don't let him lose you like he lost me."

Two hands held Akihiko's head and stroked through his hair and a kiss was planted ever so lovingly atop his head. Then two arms were wrapped around him.

"I embrace you because in so doing so I embrace my baby," Akina breathed into his hair, the warmth of her breath searing his skin.

"_Baby_," someone whispered. _Mother_, Akihiko thought.

He was dancing with a younger Akina again, spinning her outwards as they laughed whole-heartedly on the edge of a cliff, the wind twirling them round and round and round and round and _round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and-_

"Love him."

"L-Love him."

"L-L-Love him."

Akina, at different ages, telling him to love Misaki, her voice jarred like a jumping record and her body moving backwards and forwards as the sunlight blinded him. A stale smell… rotting lavander…

"Mother?" Akihiko whispered in a dark room as he hugged his knees, on the ground. Anguish, lamentation lacerating his heart, his _core_...

"I am with you."

_Love him._

"I miss you," Akihiko spoke into the darkness as black water sunk into his vision.

"My blessing."

"Mother?"

"You have my blessing."

"Akina," Akihiko breathed, suddenly relieved.

"Shhh," someone was rocking him, stroking his hair. Cold with sweat… The smell of pepper suddenly shot up his nose and he tripped off a redbrick wall into a blue sky as a room, dark blue in the aftermath of the deepest night, flitted in front of him.

Akihiko eyes shot open as he jumped off the cliff with Akina and he gasped, filling his lungs as much as he could without them bursting.

"_Love him…_" came a distant whisper.

"Usagi-san? Usagi-san, are you awake?"

Akihiko realised it had been a dream. He was awake now and in his bed with… _with Misaki_. _Hm… hard to discern the dream with him involved_, Akihiko thought, gripping Misaki's torso and sniffing up his throat, brushing his lips over the cold skin. Misaki's hand in his hair stopped stroking and Akihiko found that Misaki had fallen back asleep. Akihiko smiled and closed his eyes before rolling out of bed and going over to a chest of drawers in the darkest corner of his room.

He relished the feeling of rough carpet beneath his bare feet, even smiled as he stepped on a soldier figurine that stabbed his big toe. He pulled open a small drawer at the top and rummaged around until his fingers passed over something addictively soft. He held what he had been searching for in his hand like he would hold onto a dear friend's hand and sort of skipped back over to Misaki.

His lover grumbled in his sleep as Akihiko threw the duvet off the lower half of Misaki's body but an interested sort of cooing came from him as Akihiko slipped a pair of silk bedsocks onto Misaki's feet. He kissed, licked and carressed the boy's feet first, breathing over them and rubbing them warm with his hands before he did cover them in the white silk socks.

He was going to ask Misaki to marry him tomorrow. With his feet actually warm, maybe Misaki wouldn't get cold feet and run away.

'_Don't let him lose you like he lost me'_… she had been warning him… from beyond, Akina had warned him… that blessing wasn't just to love Misaki; it was to hold him to him and not let him run. He had been given permission to drown Misaki in his love. It had not been a simple dream, no dream ever was… but this was more than the fantasised fabrication of a slumbering man.

He had been visited. By the women… of past, present, future…

But he had not seen his mother, only smelt her… heard her, felt her; all of the things he barely felt with Akina, he had with his mother. That made sense… perfect sense…

Love him. Simple.

"I promise," Akihiko whispered as he lay down next to Misaki, tucked the covers around him and closed his eyes in blissful serenity.

A couple of months later, Akihiko was asked by his editors to attend a smart gathering to celebrate his one hundredth official publication. As he got to the top of the stairs of a grand hall, orchestral music floating around him and focused waiters shuffling about, he felt a nostalgia grip him. Aikawa came to his left shoulder and squealed up at him about how happy she was that he was there, but he didn't care. He was alone, wasn't he… wasn't he… had he forgotten something?

"Usagi-san, do I look stupid?" came a timid voice behind him. Akihiko turned just in time to see Misaki peer out from behind him, dressed in a very smart new suit with a dark purple tie. Akihiko let out a private sigh of relief as he turned to smooth the material over Misaki's shoulders.

"Are you wearing your ring?" Akihiko asked quietly, eyes trailing over Misaki's slender neck. Misaki blushed and was about to whack Akihiko round the head before he realised Akihiko wasn't talking about a cock-ring. His shoulders dropped and he nodded his head at his chest. Akihiko stroked a finger down Misaki's neck and just under his dark purple shirt-collar and smiled as his skin made contact with the coolness of the silver chain that held the simple, silver engagement ring Akihiko had given him. Akihiko bent down and whispered in Misaki's ear.

"We do this and then it's off to Sweden," Akihiko assured. He put his fingers on the middle of Misaki's throat and felt the boy gulp.

As Akihiko pulled away and straightened his own tie, his eyes flashed over Misaki's shoulder at a streak of pink… delicate shoulderblades, a rosy glow… a proud, encouraging smile vanished as a butler strode across the jigsaw of a woman he was sure he had seen.

"Akihiko?" Misaki pressed his hand to Akihiko's chest. Akihiko looked down and Misaki dropped his hand as soon as Akihiko was back to the present, but Akihiko grabbed it and kissed his knuckles. "Oi!" Misaki hissed, pulling his hand away. "Not here."

"Always. Everywhere," Akihiko whispered. Misaki narrowed his eyes then inconspicuously looked from side to side. When he had decided they were not being watched, he leaned forward and placed a kiss to the most quickly accessible place available: the spot just under Akihiko's Adam's apple.

_Ahh._

_I must be dreaming._


End file.
